Death and Life

                The machines in the room hummed steadily. Wires trailed from them to the man in the bed. Although the visible injuries—a bruise here and there, scraped cheek, cut forehead—seemed minor, the real damage was invisible to the observer. The soldier’s body, so strong on the outside, was betraying him from the inside.

                Was it really just yesterday that he had been working to clear the rubble? Searching for survivors of the most recent attack? He should have waited. Should have followed protocol. Walking into an unsecured structure alone was foolish. On the other hand, if he had waited, there would be five men waiting for death instead of only one.

                The child’s crying had compelled him to enter. Perhaps it was his own imminent fatherhood that caused him to rush. Perhaps it was simply the instinct built into every human that spurred him forward. Whatever the cause, he could not ignore the cry. What if it were his baby girl trapped inside? He would want someone to save her.

                The bomb went off the instant he stepped inside.

                The immediate physical damage was minor—a few cuts and scrapes from flying debris. It was what the explosion released that was deadly. A specialized airborne pathogen that only survived in the air for a few seconds. But a few seconds was all it took. It had become a favorite weapon of the enemy—non-contagious, short life after exposure to air, and fatal results. Always fatal. Lured by a child’s cry, caught unawares, a few seconds was all it took for the virus to take root inside his body. At that very moment, it was eating away at the soldier’s body. The medical technology could bring him comfort but not a cure.

                It wouldn’t be long now.

                He turned his head as a sound reached his ears. The door of the room opened to admit a woman. Her skirt was long and full, her shirt soft and pink. Her short hair was clipped out of her face, and there was a tag on her wrist identifying her as a patient. There was no make-up on her face, but there was a light in it that competed with the sorrow in her eyes. In her arms, she carried an infant.

                She approached the bed and carefully sat on the mattress. “I’ve brought someone to meet you.” Her voice was soft and tinged with an accent. She angled her arms toward him. “Meet your daughter.”

                He moved to lay a finger on the cheek of the child. His child. The child who took her first life-giving breath at the exact moment he took the breath that would cause his death. The child he would never see grow up. The child he was meeting for the first time and the last time.

                He adjusted his pillows to sit up straighter then held out his arms. As he held his baby girl, she looked up at him with bright, round eyes. He studied every detail. Wonder and awe filled him as he gazed at her. Then, slowly, a feeling of pain crept over him. Like the afternoon shadows, it soon overwhelmed every other emotion. Tears flooded his eyes as he wept for the life he would never see.  “Allegra,” he choked. “Call her Allegra.”

Allegra. A name meaning ‘joy’ and ‘cheerfulness.’ He wanted his child to bring laughter and love not to be a reminder of sorrow and pain. As she grew, Allegra would be a symbol of the good times. She would be a ray of sunshine in the otherwise dark days ahead.  Features of the man she would never meet would become defined on her face. She would share her father’s good humor and easy confidence. She would be a part of him that would continue to live on.

He continued to gaze at her. His wife pulled her feet under her and shifted to put one arm around him, the other over his hand on their baby. She laid her head on his shoulder, her own tears sliding down her face.

And there they sat—both wishing desperately to stop the clock. To freeze time. To make the moment last forever. But time is cruel. It stops for no one. It gives no thought to one’s agony. It continues to tick forward moment by moment. That is the circle of life. In that room, one life was endiing while another life  was just beginning.

…You do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes. ~James 4:14 (ESV)

Past Pain and Current Grace

     It's a beautiful winter day! I am snuggled up under blankets watching cardinals play in the snow outside my window. It's an amazing sight!

     While sitting here, I was poking through an old folder and found a paper with the following written on it:

What do you see?
Confidence. Arrogance. Diligence.
That is what all see.
They see the mask.
What is under?
They don't know there is an under.
They don't know there is a mask.
They don't take time to care.
They don't care.
Do you?
Will you be the one?
Will you be the one to care?
Will you be the one to care enough to find the mask?
Will you be the one to ask me to remove it?
Will you be the one I trust?
What will you see?
Hurt. Pain. Loneliness. Longing.

      It was written some time in college--most likely my freshman or sophomore year. I don't remember when, or the circumstances surrounding it. I don't remember if I was thinking of a particular person, or just people in general. It is, however, typical of the things I scribbled at the time. Rereading it now, several years later, I am struck by the desperation in the words. I read it as if it was written by a stranger. I felt no connection with the words.

     But that was me.

     Nearly a year ago, I shared the story of the lowest point in my life. With the sharing of that story, it was as if a burden I didn't know I was carrying was lifted. (If you haven't read it, you can here.) I believe that, in sharing that story, I finally allowed myself to completely heal. Today, I rarely think of that time. But sometimes, there is a trigger that brings everything flooding back.

     In thinking about those moments when I was trapped within my own imagination in order to distance from the world, I am overcome with relief and gratefulness. But for God's mercy, I would still be in that web. I escaped, because one person took the time to care. It was a long process, but here I am today.

     Take the time to care. If you see someone hurting, say something. Even if you don't know what to say, you can still say, "I'm here." This past summer, several people that I knew and worked with at the time told me that they could sense something "off" about me, yet never took the time to pursue it. After hearing my story, they all wished they had taken the time. If they had, I might have been saved some painful years.

     No, I don't blame them. Everything happens for a reason. Perhaps by going through what I did I will be able to reach out to someone else. Maybe that has already happened. We never know how far-reaching the ripples of our actions are. If nothing else, it changed me from a platonic Christian to close-up realization of God's love and mercy.

     And that is enough.

   

Microwave Whole Wheat and Honey Berry Muffin

     A few days ago, my super awesome and thoughtful boyfriend sent me a webpage that had links to several different mug cakes. The one that caught my eye was the blueberry muffin recipe here. So tonight, with the Frozen soundtrack playing in the background, I decided to see if I could make my own version.

Ingredients

1/4 cup whole wheat flour

1/8 tsp. baking powder

1/16 tsp. baking soda

1 tbsp. olive oil

1 tbsp. honey

3 tbsp milk

Berries

Kale Chips and Cherry Berry Pie

     I joked about starting a food blog once I had the time and money. Said blog would be dedicated to trying out food from other people's blogs. However, although I still do not have money, I am slightly bored. Instead of giving another hour of my life to Netflix, I decided to join the masses and write about food. Specifically, the food I made today.

     I have known for years that kale has been hailed (rhyme intended. Pretty good, huh?) as a superfood. Rich in all things good. Today was the first time I had tried it.

     My kale experience started when I decided to Google more healthful alternatives to potato chips. I can down a bag of Kettle Chips in one sitting. (Yes, I know. It's disgusting.) I was looking for something to satisfy the craving for salty, crunchy goodness. Kale chips was the main item appearing on every web page. I remember watching a Rachel Ray show years ago in which she makes kale chips. At the time, I was weirded out by the fact that a leafy veggie could become crispy. Aren't veggies supposed to wilt and shrivel when heated? It was time to find out.

     After a trip to the grocery store, I set to work. (Sorry, no pictures. I'm not a professional food blogger, after all!)

Dude, I Shop Like a Dude!

Clothes. Shoes. Jewelry. Make-up. 

     Women can never have enough of these things. They cannot wait until they have a moment to shop the latest styles from their favorite department store. Pawing through racks at Goodwill is exhilarating. Oh, and let’s not forget the euphoria that falls around them when they find those wonderful, impractical, painful shoes that they will never wear more than once a year, but simply must have.

Into the Valley and Back

     Two weeks ago, I shared a story of God's love and faithfulness overcoming my depression and turmoil. The response I received was overwhelming. In just a few days, I had over 300 views from ten different countries.

To put it in perspective, I only had 148 Facebook friends from three or four countries.

     I have received messages from several people telling me that they have similar stories. Some are people I've just met, others people I've known for years. My point here would be, if you are going through something similar, don't suffer in silence. It's hard to be honest about what you are going through, but you aren't the only one.

   

My Silent Pain

     If you have known me for long at all, than you know that I'm a pretty private person. Sure, I'll hang out, make jokes, laugh, and occasionally, have something serious to say. But I don't often let people know the real me--the emotions and feelings that are going through my head. It's hard for me to be transparent with people, but, in light of recent events, I feel the need to share a very personal story.
     Some details will be vague, but please understand that this is hard. In spite of that, I hope that my story will either help someone who reads it, or enable you to help someone else.